


A Better Man

by xxxShyxPrincessxxx



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rhaegar Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-21 15:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11947557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxShyxPrincessxxx/pseuds/xxxShyxPrincessxxx
Summary: Once he had promised, as only a father could, that he would find her someone worthy, someone brave, gentle, and strong. Hopefully Jon Targaryen was that man, at least a better man than Joffery.





	1. Chapter 1

_**A Better Man** _

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and ocs. Enjoy and feel free to let me know what you thought.**

**Chapter 1**

 

Sansa wasn't entirely fond of tourneys. She didn't enjoy watching the men ruthlessly beat themselves to prove they were better than the last man. She didn't see the point in the events that were held. However, her betrothed enjoyed them very much, and had insisted she join him for the Crown Prince's Name Day Tourney. She was seated beside her intended, Joffery Barthareon, watching the archery event with mild interest.

“Can you believe they are allowing the Princess to participate in this event?” the disgust was evident in Joffery's tone, however, Sansa had been unaware that the Princess was even allowed to compete.

“Surely you must be mistaken,” the moment the words left her mouth, Sansa knew she would regret them. Joffery hated when she questioned him. When he found a moment alone with her, most likely when he would wish her good night, she would suffer for the comment. Joffery's nostrils flared at her words, turning his narrowed gaze towards her before speaking.

“Are you calling me a liar my lady?” he ground the words out from between clenched teeth. Sansa's eyes widened fractionally as she shook her head, her heavy braid thumping against her back from the movement.

“Of course not my lord. I'm merely shocked by the information you had just gifted me with,” Sansa stuttered out quickly, glancing towards the open field to watch the event unfold before Joffery could see just how frightened she was.

True to his words, Sansa saw the head of silver blonde hair making her way onto the field. Sansa noticed how Princess Rhaenys had her silvery hair in a single plait down her back, a long bow gripped between her slender fingers as she took position and notched an arrow.

“The King actually allows his daughter to practice archery Father!” Sansa heard her sister, Arya's, excited voice exclaim at the sight. Her father answered with a chuckle.

“Aye, he does,” he replied, watching as the arrow flew true and hit it's intended mark before she took three steps to the left and notched another arrow. Sansa watched, amazed as this arrow also flew true and hit the target dead center.

“If she makes the last shot, she'll have won the event,” Arya stated with wonder in her voice as the Princess notched her third and final arrow.

“Surely the other two were just luck,” Sansa spoke finally, rolling her eyes at her sister who was excited. Sansa watched in amazement as the arrow hit the center of the third target and Princess Rhaenys turned towards the cheering crowd, arms out stretched as she turned in a circle with a wide grin on her lips. Joffery scoffed beside her, turning away from the sight, However, Sansa couldn't as she watched two men make their way onto the field. She could only assume the one with matching silver hair was the Crown Prince Aegon and the one with black curls was their brother, Prince Jon. She watched as Prince Aegon threw his head back and laughed loudly, obviously at something his sister had said and how Princess Rhaenys ran towards Prince Jon, who caught her and swung her in a circle.

“They're so affectionate with each other,” Sansa spoke softly, truly amazed by the royal siblings interaction before shaking her head and glancing around her, only to notice how her father's eyes were trained on Prince Jon, a look of sadness dancing in his eyes before he turned away to talk to Lord Barthareon. Exhaling a sigh, Sansa turned back to the field in time to catch Prince Jon's eyes, eyes that looked stormy gray, until he turned and the sunlight caused them to appear Targaryen violet. Sansa turned away, ending their staring contest before anyone could notice and glanced at her hands folded in her lap. Her heart was fluttering quickly inside her chest, and Sansa closed her eyes, fighting the heat that was rising to her cheeks. Inhaling a deep breath, she reopened her eyes, only to see the Prince had turned and was now speaking to his siblings. Releasing the breath in a rush of either relief or disappointment, she wasn't sure, Sansa felt her shoulders drop slightly.

 

“Some lady finally caught your eye Little Brother?” Aegon questioned as he moved to stand beside his brother, smirk dancing on his lips as he glanced over his shoulder, attempting to find the lady that had caught his younger brother's eye where others had failed to.

“Leave the Little Dragon alone Egg,” Rhaenys chided her elder brother lightly, rolling her eyes as she came to stand beside Jon, watching as he shook his head at Aegon's actions.

“It's that pretty Northern lady, hair kissed by fire and eyes like sapphires,” she commented after a moment, noticing how Lord Stark's eldest daughter had glanced back towards Jon when she thought no one was looking. A smirk danced on Rhaenys's lips as she thought about how much their mother would enjoy this bit of news.

“Oh, she is pretty. Also betrothed to Lord Barthareon's son, Joffery,” Aegon commented lightly, watching the smirk dance across his sister's lips as she merely shrugged her delicate shoulders.

“Are you two quite done? I need to be preparing for the melee event,” Jon stated, exasperation coloring his tone as he rolled his eyes skyward.

“Please, Brother, if you had wished for us to leave you be, all you needed to do was say so. We all know you will win the event as surely as you knew I would win the last,” Rhaenys clucked her tongue, rolling her violet eyes skyward as she moved to link arms with Aegon and allowed him to escort her from the field.

“You're plotting something Sister,” Aegon murmured once he was sure they were out of ear shot. Rhaenys merely smirked, glancing towards her brother from the corner of eye.

“Don't worry that pretty head of yours Brother. Leave the plotting to those who are actually capable of it,” Rhaenys replied lightly, smiling brightly as they reached the stands their parents were sitting at before taking a seat beside her mother.

“Some pretty bird has finally caught the Little Dragon's attention,” she commented, watching as her mother's amber eyes widened slightly before she turned her attention to her daughter as they waited for the event to begin.

“Do tell my little Sun, who has finally caught our Jon's eye,” Elia questioned her daughter as she clasped their hands together, turning her body so she knew she had her undivided attention.

“Apparently Little Brother inherited father's love of wolves,” was all Rhaenys said before the horn were blown, announcing the beginning of the melee event.

 

Sansa watched as the Prince moved flawlessly through the field, easily winning each match before the finals. Sansa felt her lips pull down in a frown when it was announced that Joffery's sworn sword, the Hound, would be facing Prince Jon. Turning her head slightly, she noticed the smug smirk dancing on his lips as he watched the fight unfold in front of him. She knew the Hound wouldn't hold back, even if his opponent was the Prince. Joffery would have told him to win by any means necessary.

“Something bothering you Sweetling?” Ned asked his eldest daughter, his eyes never leaving the fight. Sansa whimpered slightly when the crowd heard a nasty clash of metal against metal.

“I'm not very fond of fighting Father,” Sansa answered, knowing he wouldn't believe her if she informed him of what Joffery had done. He would tell her she was a woman of ten and eight, not a child who would be running around making up stories as she once had. Inhaling a breath, Sansa glanced towards the scene only to see the Hound fall, Prince Jon's sword at his throat. She was amazed. No one had ever defeated the Hound before, yet he had, a man who didn't look much older than her.

Sansa watched the crowd cheer, expecting his siblings to race to the field yet again to congratulate him. Only they didn't. For Prince Jon stood on the field, a wide grin stretching his lips as Queen Elia descended the steps of the stand, placing a crown of roses in his hands.

“As is tradition to every victor, with the exception of your sister, you are to crown your Queen of Love and Beauty,” Queen Elia's voice carried over the crowd easily, a soft smile dancing on her lips. Prince Jon nodded, his eyes easily scanning the crowd before his storm colored eyes landed on her. Sansa felt every muscle in her body tense as he slowly made his way towards her. Sansa watched from the corner of her eye as Joffery glared, his lips pulling down into a frown when he realized the Prince was making his way towards them. She felt every muscle in his slender body tense as Jon stopped before her placing the crown of roses atop her head and grasping her hand. She felt him run a gloved thumb over the soft flesh of the back of her hand before pressing his lips in a light kiss. Sansa fought the heat rising in her cheeks as she glanced demurely to her lap, knowing it would only anger Joffery more if she showed her pleasure in the attention the Prince was paying her.

 

“I wish for you to speak to Lord Stark,” Elia stated once she had returned to her seat, watching as Jon carefully scanned the crowd until his eyes fell on the eldest Stark girl. Rhaegar raised a questioning eyebrow, silently asking his wife to explain.

“In the years since Jon has become a man, we have not pushed him to marry, have not seen him even take an interest in any girls in the court. Yet today, he can not look away from the eldest Stark girl. I think he is truly smitten with her and I believe it would be good to unify our Houses. Things have been... shaky since Lyanna. Do this Rhaegar. I wish the match to happen,” Elia stated, her eyes never leaving the boy she had raised from his birth, her second son.

“So it shall my beautiful Sunshine,” Rhaegar answered, watching as Jon placed the crown of roses atop Lord Stark's daughter's head before taking a step back, offering her a bow, and turning on his heel. Rhaegar knew he was most likely going to search for his siblings who had disappeared once he had been declared victor of the melee event. Rising from his seat, Rhaegar easily made his way towards Lord Stark, his once good brother before the death of his second wife.

“Your Grace,” Lord Stark greeted once he realized he was standing beside him and lord Barthareon who mumbled his title.

“Lord Stark, Lord Barthareon,” Rhaegar greeted in turn, glancing towards the two young girls and the boy beside the men.

“My, is this your youngest daughter Lord Stark? She looks very much like Lyanna,” Rhaegar commented, watching the sad smile dance on the other man's lips before he nodded.

“Aye, this is my youngest daughter Arya. That is my eldest daughter, Sansa,” he introduced, watching as Arya curtsied clumsily and Sansa gracefully.

“Lovely girl,” Rhaegar complimented Sansa, a small smile dancing on his lips as he watched Lord Bartthareon mutter something under his breath before excusing himself from their conversation.

“A reason you were making Robert uncomfortable, your grace?” Ned questioned, eyebrow raised as he listened to Rhaegar chuckle.

“No reason truly. I wished to speak to you of your daughter's betrothal. How committed to a Barthareon wedding are you?” Ned frowned slightly, his gaze moving from Joffery to Sansa, the changes he had noticed in his daughter since her betrothal had been announced two years ago.

“I'd much rather marry Arya to Robert's eldest son, Gendry. At least that lad actually looks and acts like a true man ought,” Ned replied, watching Rhaegar nod, glancing over his shoulder to his three children.

“I regret only having a year with Lyanna. Contrary to what others may say, Elia and I truly loved her. She was wild where Elia was tame, quiet where Elia was loud. She wasn't meant for the South however. And sadly I know Jon isn't either. He hasn't even looked at a woman until today,” Rhaegar started, watching as Ned's eyes widened slightly.

“You wish to send your son North?” he sounded confused, unsure just what Rhaegar was saying.

“I wish to properly unite our Houses Ned. Jon is very taken with your eldest daughter, and he is more like Lyanna than he is me. Aegon excels with a harp, with poetry. He was a gentle child. Never truly liked conflict. Jon, he excels with a sword, war strategy. I'm certain he would win the respect of every Wildling who settled in the Gift,” Rhaegar stated, watching as Ned thought over his words.

“I agree. I'll break the news to Robert tonight,” he grasped Rhaegar's forearm, watching the other man smile before returning to his seat. He silently prayed to the old gods he wouldn't regret his decisions.

Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed the way Joffery attempted to make himself appear bigger, the way Sansa folded into hersefl when ever he was close. Once he had promised, as only a father could, that he would find her someone worthy, someone brave, gentle, and strong. Hopefully Jon Targaryen was that man, at least a better man than Joffery.

 

 

_**A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Feel free to let me know what you thought!** _

 


	2. Chapter 2

_**A Better Man** _

 

**Chapter 2**

 

Ned inhaled a deep breath, closing his eyes as he looked towards his eldest daughter. Sansa possessed the Tully looks, however Ned knew that under her lady like facade was a she wolf. Joffery was attempting to tame her, just as Robert had wished to do to his sister. One thing those Barthareon men didn't understand however, was that a Stark could never be tamed.

“I have something to discuss with you Sweetling,” Ned began, leaning forward over the desk he was sat in front of, folding his hands in front of him as he watched Sansa tilt her head, the action reminiscent to that of the wild creature he was just comparing her to.

“What is it Father?” her voice was soft, and Ned knew that was Joffery's doing. Silently he cursed the lad.

“I spoke to Robert already, and he has agreed to end your engagement to his son, Joffery,” Ned began, watching as her ice blue eyes widened slightly before he chose to continue.

“Instead, your sister Arya, shall wed his eldest son, Gendry. They are a good match. I've seen the way the lad looks at her. It's as if she hung the moon and the stars in the sky just for him. It's the same way I look at your mother,” Ned watched as Sansa slowly nodded, her brows furrowing slightly as he told her this.

“I don't think I understand Father. I mean, I understand why you are telling me of the end to my engagement, why are you telling me of Arya's instead though?” Sansa questioned quietly, waiting for her father to explain.

“King Rhaegar approached me today, during the tourney after his son, Prince Jon, had gifted you with the crown of roses,” Ned watched Sansa's reaction to his words, noticing the slight flush that was beginning to color her cheeks.

“He wishes to unite our houses, as they once were when he took your Aunt Lyanna as his second wife. Things have been a bit tense since her death however. It would appear you had caught Prince Jon's eye.”

“That can't be!” Sansa protested before pressing her lips together, looking away from her father's shocked expression.

“Sansa, do you not wish to stay North?” Ned frowned slightly, waiting for his daughter's answer.

“Stay North? I wouldn't have to move here?” Sansa's eyes widened slightly, watching the soft smile dance across her father's lips before he nodded.

“King Rhaegar realizes what happens to a Stark in the South. I believe it helps that his son is half Stark. He wishes for Jon to go North, I believe he is offering him the Queenscrown as well as Dragonstone,” Ned answered, watching as Sansa began to to chew on her bottom lip, obviously thinking over the option of marrying the Prince or the little Lordling.

“Do you... Do you think Prince Jon is kind, Father?” Sansa questioned, glancing towards her hands which were twisting in her lap.

“Aye. I believe the young Princeling is Brave, Kind, and Stong my Sweetling. I believe he will treat you as you deserve to be treated,” Ned answered, pushing from his seat as Sansa did the very same.

“Than I accept,” she answered, turning on her heel and leaving her father with a soft smile on his lips before he realized he would need to inform Arya of her upcoming engagement. Exhaling a sigh, Ned shook his head before following his daughter from the study he had been allowed to use while he was staying at the Red Keep. He was much to old to be handling Arya's rebellious nature, he thought as he made his way towards the courtyard, where he knew his youngest daughter of ten and five would be practicing with some weapon she had stolen.

 

Sansa allowed a small smile to dance on her lips as she made her way to her rooms. The feast for Prince Aegon's nameday was still in progress in the great hall, however Sansa was exhausted from the day's events and simply wished to sleep until tomorrow when the events would continue. She was almost to her rooms before a slender hand shot out from the shadows of an aclove. Sansa nearly screamed before another slender hand covered her mouth, preventing her from calling out for Jory, who stood at the end of the hall.

“Did you honestly think you would be able to end your engagement to me and I wouldn't argue over it? Hmm, _my lady_ ,” Joffery practically snarled into her ear. Sansa felt the familiar grip of fear as his grip tightened on her forearm. Her eyes widened fractionally as Joffery turned them, forcing her back against the stone wall. The stone brushed roughly against her back, and Sansa bit back a whimper from the painful grip as well as the rough stone digging in to her skin through the thin fabric of her dress.

“You are mine Sansa. You are to be my wife. Mother said so. You are the most beautiful lady in the well, I deserve you,” Joffery hissed, removing his hand from over her mouth and reaching for her waist. Tears began to gather in her eyes, afraid of what the insane Lordling would do to her.

“That pathetic Prince won't want you once I'm through with you,” he growled, a twisted grin dancing on his lips. Sansa forced her eyes closed, waiting for the pain to come, knowing he meant to strike her, most likely her face. The pain never came, instead she felt a rush of air as Joffery was pulled away from her.

“Oi, look Rhae, Jon caught a little lion pawing at his future Princess,” Aegon taunted gleefully as Sansa opened her eyes to see Prince Jon standing in front of her protectively, Joffery sprawled at the Crown Prince's feet, and the Princess leaning against the wall beside him with a malicious smile on her lips.

“What should we do with him Jon? Mount his head on the wall in the trophy room? Skin him for a rug? Maybe a new blanket considering you'll be headed North soon? Oh, I know, we could always call the little She-Wolf. She would much enjoy ripping out his throat with his bare hands,” Rhaenys suggested, shrugging away from the wall and coming to stand before Joffery before dropping into a crouch and tracing a finger down his cheek.

“Nay Sister. I doubt Mother would much approve of us starting a war in our very walls. And I highly doubt Lord Stark would approve of us allowing his daughter to kill this Bastard,” Jon replied, his voice icy to Sansa's ears.

“I shall allow you your life Lord Joffery. However if you even so much as look in _my lady's_ direction again, I won't hesitate ending you and mounting your head in our father's Trophy room,” Jon hissed, storm colored eyes narrowed to slits as Joffery scrambled backwards until he twisted his body and got to his feet.

“You're mad. All of you. They always said the Targaryen madness was deep in your blood,” he practically screeched, shaking where he stood.

“Aye, they say the Madness is simply a flip of a coin for every Targaryen born. However, I would rather have madness in my blood than be a result of my mother fucking her brother,” Aegon replied, smirking at the shock that crossed Joffery's features before he ran, leaving Sansa with the Targaryen siblings.

“Are you alright, my lady?” Jon spoke softly, turning to face Sansa who hadn't moved from her spot leaning against the wall. Sansa thought over his question carefully, cataloging the pain she felt as well as how frightened she had been.

“I think so,” Sansa murmured, pushing away from the wall and taking step towards the hallway.

“Thank you,” she whispered, eyes downcast as she waited for a mocking reply. Only one didn't come. Glancing up from under her lashes, Sansa noticed the way Prince Jon was watching her, a frown pulling on his lips.

 

“You don't need to thank us for helping. I'm sure anyone would have,” Jon shook his head, watching the soft smile dance on Lady Sansa's lips before she shook her head.

“Truly, you would be mistaken, your grace,” she murmured, glancing towards the ground yet again. Jon tossed a glance over his shoulder, noticing the confused looks on his siblings faces.

“My Lady, would you please look at me,” Jon requested, feeling disgust boiling in his blood at the realization she had been conditioned to act so submissively. He watched as his future bride internally struggled with his request before lifting her head to meet his eyes.

“I promise you, my lady, you have nothing to fear from either my siblings or myself. You need not keep your head down or address us so formally,” Jon spoke softly, his brows furrowing as he watched her struggle to maintain eye contact.

“For the love of the Gods, where is that little Bastard! I think I might skin him myself before calling the She-Wolf,” Aegon spoke harshly, threatening violence which had both Rhaenys and Jon glancing towards him in shock.

“My Lady, will you please allow me to escort you to your rooms?” Jon requested, shaking his head towards his brother before offering Lady Sansa his arm. She gently rested her arm in the crook of his elbow before falling into step beside him. Jon could still sense the tension in her muscles, as if waiting for him to snap at her for something. His jaw clenched as he thought of finding the coward who had conditioned this beautiful Lady to react in such a way. His father had often told him and his siblings of the Starks, mainly because of Jon's mother.

Rhaegar often spoke of how the women of the north were strong, wild, as Lyanna had been. That was what had originally caught his and Elia's attention. Lyanna had been wild, and they wanted to taste that wildness, never wishing to tame it. Jon could see though that Joffery had been intimidated by the Wolf Blood that obviously ran through Sansa's veins. He had attempted to break her, forcing her to be some fragile bird rather than the fierce she wolf that she was. He would fix that, he would help her realize she wasn't some little bird to be caged. She was a fierce she wolf who would run free. Reaching the doors to her room, Jon lifted her hand from his elbow before bringing it to his lips. Gently he pressed his lips to the back, bowing over it. Sansa inhaled sharply at the action before Jon straightened up, a soft smile on his lips.

“Good night, my lady. I look forward to seeing your bright face in the morning,” Jon spoke softly, watching the flush rise to her cheeks. Jon waited for her to enter her rooms, turning on his heel to return to the feast, only for Sansa to call out gently, gaining his attention.

“Good night You Grace. I hope you sleep well,” was her reply before she closed the doors quietly. Jon couldn't keep the small smile from his lips if he had tried.

“She hurts my soul Jon,” Rhae whispered as the three Targaryen children made their way back towards the great hall, knowing they were probably missed by this point.

“She's been hurt since she caught Joffery Barthareon's eye. He's been trying to break her for years. I just need to act as her armor until she is no longer a fragile bird,” Jon answers with a shrug, unaware of the eyes following him.

“We, Jon, we. She is to be family soon. She will have our protection as well as yours, little brother,” Aegon replied, smirking as Jon rolled his eyes.

“Of course Egg,” he mutters before pushing the heavy doors to the great hall open and moving towards the head table to take his seat next to the Queen. Elia glanced towards her children, delicate eyebrow raised in silent question. Rhaenys merely shook her head, silently telling her mother they would explain everything to her later. Elia nodded minutely before returning her attention to the lords gathered in the hall.

 

**A/N: Chapter 2! I hope you enjoyed. Feel free to let me know what you thought. I'm surprised by the reaction this fic has gotten. Glad everyone is liking it!**

 


	3. Chapter 3

_**A Better Man** _

 

 

_**Chapter 3** _

 

Arya was seething with anger. She didn't understand why her father was so insistent on a union between their house and the Barthareons, although Gendry was a good man. He was one of the few she could honestly tolerate, nothing like his half brother who enjoyed torturing her sister. Arya's hands balled into fists at her sides at the thought of Joffrey. He was one of the few people she truly despised, just for the way he treated Sansa. She knew her sister and her weren't entirely close, Sansa to proper and Arya to wild, however she was still her sister, still her pack. She would find a way to end that idiotic prick's life if it was the last thing she did.

“You look lost little She-wolf,” Arya tensed at the use of a pet name, glancing around only for her eyes to land on Joffrey's smug smirk. Her pale gray eyes narrowed to slits, baring her teeth in a fashion similar to a wolf's snarl Arya glared at the slender boy only three years older than herself.

“You look alone little Stag. Didn't you hear, it's never wise to hunt alone when there are wolves running about?” Arya taunted, squaring her shoulders as she waited for Joffrey to move. His chuckle was cold as he stepped away from the wall he had been leaning against, unsettling Arya as he took a step closer to her.

“Every says how you look so much like your dead Aunt, the woman who was so beautiful Rhaegar Targaryen and his wife Elia both wished for her to warm their bed. I don't see it. You aren't beautiful, at least not in the way Sansa is. You might do as a consolation though, I'd thoroughly enjoy taming the wolf in you,” He stretched out a hand, only to pause as Arya violently jerked her face just out of his reach.

“You ever try to touch me, mention my sister, or tell me how much you would enjoy _taming me_ I'll gut you,” Arya hissed, pivoting on her heel and leaving a scowling Joffrey in the halls of the Red Keep. Arya was angry, red coloring her vision as she sought the rooms Sansa had been given. Only she never made it that far. She collided with a solid chest, causing her to tumble back. Before she could fall on her behind though, two large hands wrapped around her small waist, steadying her. Arya tensed at the touch before the familiar voice calmed her.

“Careful my lady,” Arya rolled her eyes, stepping away from Gendry to glare at him.

“How many times do I need to tell you, don't call me that,” Arya stomped her foot in frustration as an amused smirk danced on the larger man's lips.

“At least once more my Lady,” he teased, watching as she glanced over her shoulder before chewing her bottom lip between her teeth.

“What's wrong Arya?” he questioned quietly, knowing something was truly bothering her for her to be so distracted.

“You're brother,” she answered easily, knowing Gendry wouldn't think her paranoid.

“Joffrey? What did that little prick do this time,” his words were practically growled, the venom coloring his tone caused Arya to turn her attention to him once more, her eyes widening at his curse for his half brother.

“I don't think he enjoys losing Sansa to the Prince,” she mumbled, watching the frown stretch across Gendry's lips before he nodded, once and sharp before wrapping a large hand around her delicate wrist and leading her towards the training grounds of the Red Keep.

“I think it would be best if we informed your sister's intended of my _brother's_ arrogance Arya,” Gendry growled the words, his own sea blue eyes narrowing in his anger towards his brother.

“You don't think I'm just being paranoid?” she needed to know that Gendry honestly believed her, that he wasn't just humoring her.

“Of course I believe you, Arya,” Gendry's voice softened, as did the look in his eyes as he glanced at the small woman beside him, noticing just how fragile she truly looked compared to him.

 

Sansa ripped the stitches from the material she had been sewing, fumbling once again as she allowed her thoughts to stray to Prince Jon once more. She was hopeless. Just because he had shown her an ounce of kindness she believed herself to be half in love with him. Tossing her sewing into her basket, Sansa pushed to her feet, deciding she was in need of some air. A walk around the castle gardens was just what she needed, she decided. She didn't have to walk far, her rooms had been placed close to the gardens at her father's insistence, and for that Sansa was extremely happy. She had expected them to be abandoned this close to dinner, however she greeted the Queen, who was seated on a bench and reading a scroll that looked as if it had come a long way.

“I'm so sorry to intrude,” Sansa apologized, dropping into a curtsy before turning to leave the Queen in peace. The soft delicate laugh caught her attention, forcing her to glance over her shoulder as her brows furrowed in confusion.

“I'm certain Cersi Lannister does not paint me in the best light unlike Rhaegar, but we are to become family. Please, sit with me Lady Sansa,” she requested, drawing Sansa back to the bench with just her words.

“I thought the gardens would be deserted at this hour, I'm so sorry,” Sansa repeated her apology, focusing her eyes on her hands twisting in her lap.

“That's why I enjoy them at this hour. Court life can be dreadfully boring and I honestly don't have the patience for court gossip. However, I wouldn't chase you for the peace you are seeking Sweetling,” Elia spoke, watching Sansa carefully.

“Lady Cersi always wished to be alone whenever she walked her garden in Storm's End,” Sansa explained, chewing her bottom lip as she glanced towards one of the rose bushes.

“I'm sure she did. I find company to be pleasant. Especially when I wish to sort my thoughts. Having someone else's opinion is always helpful,” Elia replied. Sansa could only nod, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the sweet scent of the different flowers that surrounded them.

“Lyanna always enjoyed the gardens as well. These types of flowers never grew in Winterfell, she and I spent many hours out here hiding from Rhaegar until he couldn't bear to be away from us. I enjoyed those moments when I had her to myself. She wasn't like the other women of the court vying for my husband's attention, wishing to steal him from me. Jon reminds me of her so much some times that it hurts, but I love him as if I bore him myself,” Elia spoke softly, a gentle smile on her lips as Sansa glanced towards her from the corner of her eye.

“How so, if you don't mind me asking your grace,” Sansa questioned quietly, waiting for the sharp rebuke that it wasn't any of her business.

“His coloring for starts. He possesses Lyanna's dark curls and gentle eyes, stormy gray like the clouds that often cover Winterfell. His love for swords and war is another of her traits. He's very skilled with a bow as well, he's the one who taught Rhae how to shoot,” Elia replied, watching as Sansa's eyes widened slightly at her words.

“Jon, he's to gentle for court life. It's a game these lords and ladies play and they would ruin him, break him, and that would simply break me. Rhaegar, Aegon, Rhaenys, and I protect him as best we can, however him going North is what needs to be done. He may be part Dragon, but Jon is more Wolf,” Elia murmured, pushing to her feet and wishing Sansa a good day, leaving her to think over her words.

 

Jon landed on his back, a huff of air escaping his lungs before he twisted his body, launching himself to his feet once more and stepping to the side of his opponent until he was standing at his back.

“He's fast,” Robert compliments Rhaegar, amazed by how quickly Jon moves on the training grounds. Rhaegar can only smile, his eyes watching Ned who was just as impressed.

“He fights like a wolf,” he states, turning his attention to Rhaegar who could only nod.

“His movements have always been as such. My master of Arms often told me I should make Jon the head of my guards, Elia on the other hand wished for him to marry and have a family of his own. He fights like the North, like Lyanna once did. Sometimes it is so easy to see her, especially when I look at our son, born to Lyanna, raised by Elia, he possesses a good mix of both his mothers,” Rhaegar explained, watching the way Ned nodded, returning his attention to his King and the other matters they had needed to discuss.

“Oh little She-Wolf, what brings you to the training grounds?” Aegon questioned as Arya and Gendry finally reached the grounds they both knew Jon would be.

“We wish to speak to Prince Jon. It pertains to his intended,” Gnedry answered, standing half a step in front of Arya, as if guarding her from the looks of the men on the grounds. Aegon frowned slightly at Gendry's words before sharing a look with his sister who stood beside him.

“Jon,” Rhaenys called, catching her younger brother's attention. Jon ended his match with one of the newer men, easily making his way towards his siblings as well as Gendry and Arya.

“Did you need something Sister,” Jon questioned, a light teasing note in his voice that surprised both Arya and Gendry. He always acted cold or indifferent in public, it was shocking to see him so warm.

“She-Wolf and this Bull have soemthing they wish to speak to you about,” Aegon was the one to answer, his violet eyes narrowed to slits as he watched the way Jon nodded, turning his attention to them.

“It's about Lord Barthareon's son, Joffrey. He... he doesn't like to lose. And he always saw my sister as a prize. I just...I think you might want to spend a bit more time with your future bride,” Arya explains, stumbling over her words as she waited for the royal siblings to laugh at her as if she were some paranoid little girl.

“Sam,” Arya's shocked by him summoning a maester in training to his side. The man offers eveeryone a bright smile before turning his attention to Jon.

“Need something Jon?” Arya is shocked even more by the maester in training's use of the Prince's first name.

“Could you please find Lady Sansa for me. Inform her I wish to escort her to dinner and that I shall meet her at her chambers please,” Jon replied, a smirk dancing on his lips as he waited for Sam's snark.

“Oi, do I look like some messenger for you to send all over the Keep?” he grumbles, rolling his eyes as he does as his friend asked, attempting to locate his friend's intended bride.

“You think he might try something again?” Rhaenys is the one to question Arya this time, a frown pulling at her lips as Arya's brow furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean again?” she demanded, watching as the three siblings each share a look, her own eyes darting between them as she waited for an explanation.

“Last night, that Cunt cornered Lady Sansa against a wall and threatened her. Jon warned him away, so he knows what awaits him if he doesn't listen,” Aegon explained, watching the way every muscle in the small girl's body tensed as if she was prepared to rip him apart with her bare hands.

“If your coward of a brother threatens my pack again Gendry, I'll gut him myslef,” Arya warned her closest friend and future husband.

“I swear to you Arya, I'll help,” answers, tugging her to his chest and running a hand up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her. The three siblings looked away, sharing a look before deciding it was time for everyone to prepare for dinner.

“I think we should return to our rooms,” Jon murmured, watching as Gendry nodded, leading the tense girl away. Jon shared a look with his siblings before following behind them, deciding he needed to ready himself as well before he was to escort Sansa.

 

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed Chapter Three. Feel free to let me know what you thought!**

 


	4. Chapter 4

_**A Better Man** _

 

**Chapter 4**

 

Jon inhaled a steadying breath, storm gray eyes closed as he attempted to center himself. The feast last night had surprised Jon, and it wasn't something he had honestly liked. Cersi Barthareon reminded him of a snake rather than a deer or lion she had once been. Her little comments had obviously gotten to Sansa as well, and Jon wasn't sure how to make any of it better.

“Your future bride is practically a shell of herself this morning and this is where you are, rather than comforting her?” Jon tensed at his mother's chiding voice, knowing he was in for a lecture.

“I... I needed to think. This is the only way I can,” Jon answered quietly, sheathing his sword before turning to face the woman who had raised him. Her questioning eyebrow told him just what she thought of that. Jon glanced towards his feet, knowing she would have some advice for him after she finished scolding him.

“Little Dragon, your relationship with Lady Sansa isn't a battle you can plan. You shouldn't be thinking of your actions towards her, comforting her should be your foremost priority at the moment. Gods know your father wasn't always the best husband, however he never needed a battle strategy to face me or Lyanna,” Elia spoke softly, her hand cupping Jon's cheek as she spoke. He nuzzled into her palm, the action reminding her of the wolf he was often compared to, of his mother who had once done the very same thing.

“She's... She's different Mother. She isn't like Rhaenys or you. She's suffered, and I'd like nothing more than to rip out that little monster's throat, however I know it won't help her. That might actually frighten her from me. I don't know what to do, how to make her feel as if she can come to me for comfort,” Jon mumbled, closing his eyes as if he were truly embarrassed of admitting this much to his mother.

“She's quite fond of our gardens. Why don't you ask to escort her on a walk, show her the maze,” Elia suggested, watching as her youngest child lifted his head as he thought over her words before nodding his consent.

“Thank you mother,” he spoke, offering Elia a small half smile before turning towards the Keep.

“Of course my Little Dragon,” Elia replied, a soft smile dancing on her lips before she pivoted on her heel, deciding she would need to have a few words with Cersi Barthareon in regards to controlling her son. That woman and her spawn were threatening her family, and that was something Elia wouldn't stand for. She would ensure the other woman understood just what it met to play games with a Dragon as well as the Sun.

Jon inhaled a deep breath, running his fingers through his mess of black curls before he squared his shoulders and lifted his fist to knock against Lady Sansa's doors. He waited a moment, contemplating knocking again before they swung open to reveal his intended bride. He paused at the sight that greeted him. Her fiery red locks were braided, falling over her shoulder. Her gown was a light blue silk with the middle cut out, held together by a rig above her navel.

“Is there something you needed Your Grace?” she questioned quietly, obviously uncomfortable in his presences. Jon cleared his thought, glancing away from her for a moment before reminding himself just why he was here.

“I thought I told you not to address me so formally, my lady,” he spoke with a half smile, his tone teasing. Sansa bowed her head, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I was wondering if I might bother you for a walk, my lady. The gardens are lovely this time of day, and my mother mentioned you didn't get to fully explore them yesterday,” Jon continued, watching as she glanced at him from under her eyelashes, chewing her plump bottom lip between her teeth before she nodded her consent.

“I would love to Your Grace,” Sansa answered, stepping over the threshold of her room and closing the door behind her.

“Jon, please. I truly hate that title,” Jon insisted as he offered Sansa his arm.

 

Sansa frowned, thinking over his words before glancing at him from the corner of her eye as she thought over her next words.

“My Lord. I don't think I would be comfortable calling you by your given name,” she argued, not seeing the small smile dancing on Jon's lips as he dipped his head.

“Better than Your Grace. I always tend to look for my father or brother whenever some one utters that title. I always tend to forget I am a prince as well,” Jon replied, watching with amazement as a soft giggle escaped Sansa's lips.

“My brother Robb is the same whenever anyone addresses him as Lord Stark. He always searches for Father,” Sansa commented, allowing Jon to lead her towards the gardens, a soft smile pulling on her lips at the sight of the flowers that greeted them.

“How are you liking the South my lady?” Jon questioned after a moment, watching Sansa from the corner of his eye, noticing how her eyes strayed to the red roses his Uncle Oberyn had sent as a gift for his mother's wedding from Dorn. Carefully he slid his knife from his belt, slicing the stem from the bush and offering it to her as he waited for her reply.

“I think I would have enjoyed it more if it had just been my family who had come,” she answered with a gentle smile as she accepted the rose from his hand.

“It's beautiful,” she whispered, raising it to her nose to smell.

“My Uncle Oberyn sent over a single bush from Dorn as a wedding gift for my mother. They were her favorite flowers and in the early stages of the courtship between her and father, she had been homesick. He thought it might ease some with the familiar scent of the roses,” Jon explained, eyes focused ahead of him as he recited the story from memory.

“Did they help?” Sansa questioned, awed by the soft expression on this stranger's face.

“Aye, she wasn't quite so sad after. That was actually what sparked her decision to start the garden. These flowers, however, aren't her gem,”Jon replied, a sly smirk sliding across his lips as he led Sansa further into the garden.

“What could possibly make this garden even grander?” Sansa questioned, brows furrowed as she followed Jon, curious as to what could make him so excited about the gardens.

“As children, Rhaenys, Aegon, and I often spent our days out here with our mother, helping her tend to her blooms until she tired of us constantly being underfoot. She would chase us away from her gardens to wander the castle grounds. But after a time not even that could keep us occupied. So she had her gardens built bigger to make room for this,” he explained, pausing before the opening of a large maze. Sansa's eyes widened at the sight, glancing towards Jon in confusion.

“And what did you and your siblings do in such a large maze?” she questioned, watching the smirk that danced on his lips as he dropped her arm before taking a step towards her.

“Often times two of us would hide as the other one sought us out. Other times two of us would one while the other chased. I thought, considering you looked so sad this morning when you broke your fast, you might indulge the Prince, your betrothed, in a game of chase my lady,” Jon replied, watching as he eyes widened slightly as Jon took another step towards her.

“Would I be given a head start, or is this game to end before it even begins?” Sansa stumbled over her words as she took a step away from Jon who remained where he was.

“I'll give you til the count of thirty, does that sound fair my lady?” he replied in answer, watching her offer a sharp nod before she darted into the maze, a laugh bubbling on her lips as she lifted her skirts an ran as she once had as a girl. She could here Jon's voice as he counted loudly, obviously for her benefit as she turned and ran deeper into the maze. She was happy, she could feel the emotion in her chest as she finally stopped, no longer able to hear Jon. She spotted a bench and she decided to sit for just a moment to catch her breath before she would run deeper into the maze. She knew her cheeks would be flushed, excitement bubbling in her veins as she waited for a moment more before running once again.

 

Jon hadn't expected the pure delight that colored Sansa's face as she raced through the maze, but he rather liked it. Slowly he made his way into the maze, knowing he would catch her soon, but deciding he'd rather let her enjoy the freedom she was obviously feeling before she remembered herr manners and that ladies didn't run. Jon frowned, remembering Lady Cersi's chiding remarks from the feast last night as she chose a seat beside his future bride and himself.

“ _You look well Lady Sansa,” she complimented, yet Jon could feel the way she tensed beside him._

“ _As do you Lady Barthareon,” Sansa had replied, yet Jon could sense the change in her the moment the older woman had sat beside them._

“ _Joffrey was very disappointed when your father announced that you would no longer be his bride, that the King offered to unite your house with his royal house. Such a big responsibility for a girl with silly dreams of a fair haired knight and life in the south,” Cersi commented, and Jon knew before Sansa even uttered the words these were insults, veiled insults, but still. His fists clenched at his sides and he bit back a growl as Sansa requested to be excused, refusing to allow him to escort her to her rooms._

He shook the thoughts from his mind, easily finding Sansa in the maze. Before he could catch her though, she heard him, glancing up from the flowers she had been admiring. Giggling she took off once again. Jon could only grin, shaking his head before chasing after her. Her laughter filled the air, and Jon felt happiness well in his chest, knowing he was the cause. He had a feeling this is what his life would constantly consist of. Sansa running and Jon chasing her until he caught her. He did finally, wrapping his thick muscled arm around her waist and hauling her back against his chest.

“Caught you,” he breathed against her ear, truly winded from the constant running the two had been doing.

“That you have my lord. What shall you claim as your prize?” Sansa questioned coyly, turning in his arms to glance at him from under her lashes. Jon raised a hand, gently cupping her cheek before lowering his head to press his lips against hers in a soft, barely there kiss.

“That's all I wish from you my lady,” he replied to her shocked gasp before releasing her.

“Now, I think it's about time we returned to the castle, dinner should be soon, and I'd rather like to escort you again, if I may,” Jon stated the question, waiting for her answer as she thought over his words.

“I think I'd like that as well my lord,” Sansa replied, placing her hand in the crook of his elbow and allowing him to guide her from the maze and back to the Red Keep so they could both prepare for dinner.

 

**A/N: Chapter 4! I hope you enjoyed. I thought this would be a good way to start their relationship. Sansa needs to learn to trust him, and what better way than showing her he is completely different from Joffrey. I'm loving the feed back from this story! Let me know what you guys thought!**

 


	5. Chapter 5

_**A Better Man** _

 

_**Chapter 5** _

 

 

Sansa exhaled a breath as she wandered the castle corridors. She knew she should be tucked away in her rooms, however she couldn't sleep. Her mind was racing and her body was tense. She hadn't seen Jon all morning and she felt a little sad at the fact that he had preferred spending time in the training yard with a bunch of guards rather than spending any time with her. Exhaling a growl of frustration, Sansa finally stopped in front of two intricately carved wooden doors. Her curiosity got the best of her as she pulled one of the heavy doors opened and gasped at the sight that greeted. The walls were lined with thick tomes and scrolls and Sansa knew this was the royal library that King Rhaegar often boasted about. She eased the door shut behind her, carefully picking her way towards the shelves, only to pause once she was in the center of the room. Sansa slowly turned, taking in the sight around her before her sapphire blue eyes landed on a sight she hadn't expected to see. The large hearth that warmed the library was lit, the fire roaring to fight the slight chill in the castle.

However that wasn't the sight that caught her breath. Her betrothed was sitting on a rug before the hearth, his back to her as his legs stretched in front of him. Slowly Sansa took a few steps closer, finally noticing that Jon was shirtless as he watched the flames dance in front of him. He seemed to glow in the firelight. Sansa watched, awe coloring her features as he lifted a hand, stretching it until it was in the hearth, the flames licking at his palm. Sansa couldn't stop the gasp of shock that escaped her lips, causing Jon to tense before glancing over his shoulder.

“My Lady, what are you doing awake at this hour?” she noticed his brows furrowed as she took a few steps closer, watching as he withdrew his hand to turn towards her.

“I... I couldn't sleep. I know it isn't wise to explore the castle so late, but I honestly didn't wish to stay in my rooms. Are you... are you hurt my lord?” Sansa questioned softly, taking those last few steps until she was directly in front of Jon, reaching for his hand.

He wore a soft smile on his lips as he allowed her to inspect his hand, her eyes scanning over it quickly only to meet his gaze. Her brows furrowed in confusion before she released his hand.

“You're unbunrnt,” she murmured, lowering her eyes as she realized just how foolish she had been. Jon shrugged his shoulders before turning his gaze to the dancing flames once again.

“I am a Targaryen. They are said to have the blood of dragons,” Jon explained, watching Sansa from the corner of his eye as she stood just to his left.

“Would you like to join me, my lady?” he questioned after a moment, noticing the way she chewed her bottom lip between her teeth before dropping to sit beside him on the rug, her own eyes watching the flames in front of her.

“Yes, but everyone in the court say how you are more Stark than Targaryen, more wolf than dragon,” Sansa stated, watching him as she turned away from the fire warming her face.

“Aye, Father often tells me I have more wolf blood than dragon running through my veins just as my mother did. Everyone's told me how wild she was, compares me to her most of the time,” Jon murmured, lowering his eyes to his hands as he recalled some memory.

“Father says my sister, Arya and my brother Robb have more wolf blood in them than even his own sister and brother did,” Sansa spoke up after a moment, chewing her bottom lip between her teeth before extending her hand to rest over his, drawing his attention to her once more.

“You'll do well in the North my lord. Wolf blood... it survives there,” she spoke softly, unsure whether he would take any comfort in her words. Joffrey never did, he often ridiculed her whenever she spoke, however Jon hadn't once.

“I hope you're right my lady. I think I should escort you to your rooms. It's late and it would be unseemly for such a beauty to have dark circles under her eyes,” Jon spoke softly, easing to his feet before helping Sansa to her feet, a small smile curling his lips as he noticed the slight blush coloring her cheeks.

 

Sansa stood with her back to the wall, every muscle in her body tense as she waited for the strike she knew was coming. Joffrey had finally been able to catch her when Jon and his siblings weren't around and Arya was stuck in her rooms.

“Thought you would have your knight in shining armor to protect you forever? He's getting tired of you already, just as I was. Soon enough he'll toss you aside for someone prettier, more exciting, someone who would actually make a good wife for him,” Joffrey sneered, his face only a few inches from Sansa's face. She turned away from him, pressing her cheek against the rough stone of the castle, whimpering slightly at his words. He pressed his body closer to her, his lips curling as he ran his nose along her cheek.

“However, I think I might keep you as a mistress,” he spoke softly, and Sansa could feel the bile rising from her stomach. Closing her eyes, she willed the strikes to come, preferring them to his words that always managed to make her feel small and dirty.

A snarl reached her ears before she felt Joffrey being ripped away from her. Sansa slumped back against the wall, the tension leaving her body as she forced her eyes open to see Jon standing in front her, similar to the night she had been informed she was to wed him rather than Joffrey.

“I thought I made my self perfectly clear, my lord,” Jon's voice was low, practically a growl that reminded Sansa of a wolf with his hackles raised. Joffrey opened his mouth, an insult or threat on the tip of his tongue. However before the words could escape his lips Jon's fist connected with his jaw.

“You're hand was raised to strike my betrothed, the future Princess. You were insulting her, degrading her, and insinuating that she would be your mistress. I have something to tell you, _my lord_ ,” The title was snarled, hurdled like an insult towards the smaller man now sprawled on the marble floor of the castle.

“Lady Sansa is to be _my_ bride. She is to be _mine_. I warned you the last time you had her against a wall if you so much as breathed in her direction I would mount your head like a trophy. However I think it is time I brought this to my father's attention. Egg, would you be so kind as to fetch mother, father, lord Stark, lord Barthareon, and his wife?” Jon requested his brother, who merely smirked before practically dancing down the hall.

Sansa finally turned her wide eyes away from Jon, noticing how his sister raised a delicate eyebrow, waiting for Jon's nod before she had Joffrey on his feet, a small knife at his throat as she spoke softly into his ear. She could see the way her tormentor trembled at the Princess's words, fear coloring his face as his emerald eyes darted around the hall, obviously looking for someone to save him. Sansa turned away from Joffrey, her eyes searching out Jon, watching as he pulled a simple knife from his belt, tossing it in the air before catching it by the blade. Her eyes widened by just how dark he looked in that moment.

“There is little known fact about dragons that most have seemed to have forgotten. Dragons covert their treasure, gold, gems, anything really that sparkles or looks beautiful. Sansa, she is my treasure. She is my gold, my gems, my something beautiful. If you doubted before that I was a Dragon, my lord, I'll make sure it's not something you soon forget this time,” Jon hissed, a dark smile dancing on his lips as his mother and father both arrived with his brother behind them.

 

Ned had assumed Jon was a better man than Joffrey. He had hoped he hadn't signed his daughter's life away to a mad man. The sight that greeted him, told him he had made the right choice. Rhaegar looked pleased while Robert looked ready to kill the prince threatening his son.

“Your grace, is this truly necessary? Please, tell your _son_ to put his knife away,” Cersi commanded Rhaegar. Ned exhaled a sigh when he noticed Elia's eyes flash. He recognized that look, the very same look she bestowed on any one who had insulted his sister, insulted Jon, He knew Cersi wasn't going to like whatever it was the Queen was about to do. He watched carefully moved until he was beside his daughter, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her into his side as a dangerous smile danced on Elia's lips.

“My Little Dragon, what is it you caught this young lord doing?” Elia questioned as she moved to stand beside Jon, wrapping an arm around his waist as she stood beside him.

“He had his arm raised to strike my betrothed. Told her how he would make her his mistress,” Jon spoke in a low tone, and Ned could feel every muscle in his body tense at the young Prince's words.

“Didn't you tell me of a similar incident only a few days ago?” Elia questioned, her amber eyes never leaving Cersi's gaze, challenging her to contradict her son in everything but blood.

“Aye, I did mother. I found him threatening to ruin Lady Sansa, claiming if he couldn't have her, no one could,” Jon nodded his head once, glancing at his mother from the corner of his eye as he attempted to piece together just what she was doing.

“Yes... that's right. Didn't you warn him than to stay away from your future bride darling?” Elia continued, her gaze never wavering as Cersi finally lowered her eyes, knowing she wasn't going to win.

“Yes, I did,” he answered, finally understanding just what his mother was doing.

“Lady Sansa is to be a Targaryen by marriage. Her children shall have the blood of dragons running through her veins just as she has wolf blood running through hers. My Lord, if you so much as glance in her direction, breathe her name, I will know. You might fear my son. You might fear my husband. But I can assure you, I am a mother. She is to be my good daughter soon, she will be my daughter, my family. And a mother knows no lengths when it comes to protecting her family. Ser Jaime?” Elia called, her eyes never leaving Joffrey's eyes as she called the head of the kingsguard to her side.

Jaime glanced between his queen and his sister, exhaling a breath as he waited for whatever she was about to tell him.

“Please escort the young lord and his mother from the castle. I believe they have over stayed their welcome,” Elia stated, turning away from them to face Ned and Sansa. Slowly she made her way to the girl who would be joining her family shortly, lifting her hands to cup her cheeks before lowering her forehead to touch Sansa's.

“You are a Stark of Winterfell, Daughter of the North. You are not some little bird trapped in a cage, you are a wolf. The wolf blood runs through your veins just as it did your aunts. You are going to need that blood, that fierceness that only a Stark possesses when you marry my son. You are a Stark, you are a wolf,” Elia murmured softly, watching the way Sansa's eyes widened at her words before lowering her gaze.

“I don't think I can remember what it was ever like to be a wolf your grace,” Sansa whispered, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

“Than allow Jon to help you find your wolf,” Elia replied, lifting her forehead before turning to her husband and declaring it was time for lunch. Sansa watched them leave, thinking over the Queen's words before telling her father she wasn't feeling well. She needed to figure out just what she had meant.

 

**A/N: Chapter 5! Hope you enjoyed. Feel free to let me know what you thought!!**

 


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